Thanks for Nothing
by lavabug
Summary: England struggles to cope with the growing abuse big brother Scotland gives to him. Can he keep it secret from America?   USUK, scotlandxengland abuse!fic. you have been warned.
1. Suprise Visit

Hello there! Just thought I should say, this is my first fanfic and I'm pretty scared about posting it :} It's been sat in my documents for 2 weeks now and I've finally pricked up the courage to post it…

Ignore my terrible grammar . Im not trying to find excuses but I am dyslexic so sometimes I get the wrong where's and were's plus sentence structure so if there's anything you think 'wow that's terrible' please tell me in the comments

This is a Scotland x England fanfic with a side order of USUK… Many change depending on how I feel xD More people should do Hetalia stories that involve smexy Scotland dammit so go look at some fan art and get inspired!

There is abuse in this fic just so your warned and it might get worse hence the rating. I don't condole abuse, I just like writing about it :/

I DON'T OWN HETALIA! (if I did the main character would be England who would frequently get in with America)

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><p>Thanks for Nothing<p>

It was raining in Britain, which was expected for the island nation. Arthur Kirkland ran to his booked taxi, holding his leather briefcase over his head. His flight had just arrived in Gatwick airport from the world summit meeting in Greece, and although he hadn't had as long as flight as America or Japan, Arthur still felt pretty shattered. Listening to Alfred blabber on about god know what does that to people, but luckily Arthur's home was just on the outskirts of west London so it wasn't too long a drive. In no time the car was pulling up at his estate.

It wasn't a small house; quiet the opposite to be exact. The estate was Arthur's pride and joy, taking care to maintain a flawless garden and authentic Victorian feel, without losing the modern charm of the average British home. The house it's self was a sandstone colour with ivy decorating most of the walls and leaving gaps where the grand windows lured through. It was very pretty. The drive was long and gravelled, leading to a circular driveway right outside the massive grand oak door painted a tradition red.

Of course to preserve such a wealthy home, England was forced to employ staff to keep the house in prime condition. That's why he wasn't surprised to see the lights on in the house when the car came to a complete halt.

After extravagantly tipping his taxi driver, Arthur briskly made his way up the stone steps leading to the front door, still avoiding the rain with his brief case. He cursed and reminded himself to remember his umbrella next time. 'Damn this unpredictable weather' he cussed.

Fumbling with his keys, he finally got the large door moving on its axis and Arthur hastily made his way in the house, closing the door as he went. He hung his coat and hat on the coat rack and removed his shoes, replacing them with dark blue slippers. Arthur started making his way to the kitchen to pour a lovely cup of earl grey he'd been craving all night, but that's when he smelt it…

That unmistakable smell. The smell of big brother Scotland's cigarettes.

England froze up. 'What is _he _doing here?' he thought, as he debated what to do. It was never a good sign Scotland being round. After all the conflict that had happened in the past the guy always seemed to have it in for Arthur, finding some reason to yell or be violent toward him, especially after a few drinks.

Facing the problem head on, England followed the smoke through the house and came to the dining room. The room mainly consisted on a large mahogany table with many matching seats surrounding it, beautiful burgundy silk drapes covering the windows and detailed paintings hanging across the walls. If Arthur ever had company round, this is where they would dine.

Scott was slung on one of the seats, legs carelessly thrown over the table, cigarette in mouth and bottle in hand. England eyed the bottle precariously, swearing inside noticing not only was in taken from his own private drinks cabinet but there was a large amount of the liquor missing.

Scotland slowly raised his head to the sound of the door creaking open, eyes glaring in slits at Arthur sudden entry. "Artie, nice of you to join me" Scott slurred, swinging the bottle round carelessly flicking the whisky over the carpet and table.

"Scotland! What the bloody hell are you doing here, have you seen the time and you can't just come round when ever you want. You should call or at least ask my permission and stop that. You're getting my whisky everywhere!"

Yelling at the man Arthur new was a mistake, but right then and there he couldn't care less. It had been a long and tiring day and the last thing he wanted to deal with was his rude, obnoxious big brother.

Scotland smirked at England fierce temper, enjoying the tense atmosphere that always seemed to occur when the two were together. He chuckled dangerously, head tilting to the side. "Well Artie, seeing as you're the one who represents the United Kingdom at those _stupid world meetings_, it only seemed fair to come collect my report on what went on." He paused only to take a deep long drag of the cigarette resting on his lips.

"Let's have it here then", Scott demanded holding out his right hand.

It was true, England did represent the UK at all the meetings. It wasn't that the others weren't allowed to but it just made things easier if Arthur copied up the notes and gave them out to his brothers. It seemed strange to Arthur that Scott was demanding his copy of the discussed events now because normally he'd show the least bit of interest. Once England had even found Scott's notes in the bin minutes after Arthur had handed him them.

'It's probably just his excuse to come down here and bother me' thought England but he thanked the heavens that he'd already copied the notes up for them which he did on the plane. Popping his brief case on the table, England undone the metal buckles holding it together and reached inside to find a damp stack of papers.

'What?' he gasped, before looking inside to see all his documents ruined and washed out by water. 'I thought this bag was waterproof!' he cussed, pulling out the desired pages and examining the splattered and smudged ink.

"What's up?" question Scotland. "Haven't taken the notes?" His voiced sounded unnaturally sly, sending shivers down England's spine.

"Well I did, but the rain must have got into my brief case so they're ruined, so if you don't mind I'll have to send you them after I've got Austria to send me his copy. I think I saw him taking notes so-"

England rant was cut off by the large whisky bottle slamming on the table "What the hell you useless idiot? You had one job to do in yah stupid meeting and you can't even do that!"

Scotland stood up, knocking the chair to the floor in the process, and marched over to England and before the smaller could react, his body had been roughly shoved into the wall behind where Scott proceeded to pin him.

"Get off me you prick!" growled Arthur. "I was doing you a bloody favour taking those notes for you and it's not like you care what's on them anyway you lazy-"

Yet again, England's rant was shortened, but this time, by and angry fist making contact with the side of his face. Scotland kept him up right but the hit left Arthur's ears ringing and a need to fall to the ground. But Arthur wasn't going to crumble to this bully.

It wasn't the first time Scotland had hit Arthur. When they were young, Scott was cruel, to the extent of killing England's pets and verbal abuse but never did Scott lay a finger on the child. Then as Arthur grew and became more powerful Scott changed. Hard shoves, bumps and knocks proceeded and then in resent years, Scotland began to punch and slap him.

England didn't mind. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle and he new it was only because Scotland was insecure about the strength of his nation. The fact England was so strong despite being the younger brother scared Scott so to keep England off his case he kept him away with fear. It was working. England could empathise with Scotland, relating it to his and America's relationship so there was always sympathy towards Scotland whenever the man would raise his fists.

"You little prick! Thinking you're so mighty and high, better than your older brothers but you're just a pathetic, ugly twit!"

The verbal abuse was always there but it normally didn't affect Arthur for he'd learnt to tune most of it out from a young age. 'Now Scott would forget all about those stupid notes and go off on a complete tangent; balling and hitting until he tired from the drink and went home' thought England as that's what usually happens…

"No wonder all your bloody colonies left you! You're a useless brother!"

That hit home.

"Shut the hell up!" screamed Arthur giving the Scotsman and shove off him into the table.

Arthur already regretted that as he new not to talk back to Scotland when he's in one of these states never mind push him. Scott just looked like he'd won the lottery. "Ha-ha. Final hit a nerve have I?" he taunted. "Or maybe you're so distressed because you know I hit the nail on the head right?" He laughed, still grinning like a cat.

Then out of nowhere, he pounced on Arthur, throwing him to the floor, and straddled his small waste. One arm took Arthur's hands, the other took his cigarette from his mouth and he leaned over, so there noses were almost touching and whispered, "the truth hurts doesn't it Artie?"

That sent Arthur into a wave of anger as he struggled with his captor, kicking and wriggling. Just trying to get the nation off him. Scotland quickly tired of his attempts of escape and placed the end of his cigarette just above England collar bone, and proceeded to push down.

There was a pause, as Arthur slowly registered what was happening before he felt the burning sensation in his neck as the skin melted. He gritted his teeth to stop himself screaming and instead hissed painfully through his teeth. Disappointed by England's lack of sound, Scott resorted to a quick jab to England's gut, making him try to curl over, but with Scotland's heavy weight on him he was going nowhere. 'Gah! I can't breathe.' Arthur thought feeling winded and he couldn't catch his breath at all.

"Aren't you a disappointment then England?" sniggered the elder.

"A couple of punches and a burn and your whimpering like the stupid mutt you are! It's disgusting to think I'm related to that sorry excuse for a nation!"

England, finally breathing normally, glared up at him, and if looks could kill, Scotland would be long gone, but all England got was a hard slap to the face. "Don't look at me like that you little shit" yelled the Scotsman and then he got to his feet and viciously kicked Arthur twice in the chest.

Arthur gasped in pain but was grateful to feel no broken ribs as he got to his feet. Scott had made his way back to his seat and was downing more of the whisky bottle.

"Fuck off," slurred Scotland. "I can't stand to look at your worthless face any longer!"

Arthur didn't need to be told twice. He quickly turned and almost ran to the door but just as he was reaching for the handle, something hard and big hit the back of his head sending him flying forwards into the doorway and crumpling to the floor.

His vision blurred and he could feel a splintering headache coming from the back of his skull. Looking up, Scotland was still sat in his seat, not even acknowledging Arthur's dilemma, but Arthur determinedly got back to his feet, after putting his hand in the remnants of a broken whisky bottle that had covered the floor.

The man slid out the door, before making his way upstairs and to his master bedroom where he slept. Arthur shut the door to his room, made his way to the bed and fell on to the old mattress, and darkness overtook him .

It had been a long day…

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><p>Soooo… shall I continue? I've got some ideas<p> 


	2. Bad News

Wow! I mean just, wow! Thankyou everyone so, so sooooo much for all the lovely reviews *^_^* i didn't expect to get one :O you all made my day and convinced me to continue!

I'm going to try and make uploading a chapter a regular thing but i'm very lazy :} so don't expect much hehe.

Also, just thought i'd point out, i haven't given Scotland an accent because i'm flipping terrible at writing with accents and no one would understand a word . just use your imagination people!

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

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><p>The first thing England noticed when he awoke was the splitting headache coming from the back of his head. It droned into his sleep causing him to stir and begrudgingly leave the comfort of his bed. Not that he was settled anyway as he came to find he was still fully clothed and not even under the covers.<p>

Reaching for the source of his headache, Arthur felt the back of his skull and sure enough found a nasty gash surrounded by blood stained hair. The blood crumbled at his touch as he rubbed it curiously in his hand, shocked by the large amount of it.

'Damn Scotland must have thrown that bottle bloody hard' he cursed. 'I'm surprised I even made it to my bedroom!' It was pretty obvious Arthur needed a shower so he made his way to his private on-suite, still clutching his head.

Once in he swiftly locked the door, just in case Scotland was still around, and began the tedious job of unbuttoning his shirt and removing his tie, wincing at the pain on his chest the movements caused. Looking in the mirror; Sure enough, a dark patch of black made it's self known on his cheek bone and his chest had three sickly coloured bruises marrying the sensitive skin; one just above his belly button, and two on his left side, at the bottom of his ribcage. The black stretched over his skin in patches of purple and blue. It was unpleasant.

The worst of all though, was the shallow crater decorating England's collarbone. The area around it was inflamed red and swollen and the burn was horribly sore and pink. 'That git! That's going too scar!' Arthur thought. The idea Scotland had marked him was horrific and Arthur couldn't comprehend it. 'It will fade in time' he sighed as he climbed in the shower.

The water stung the burn and pounded down on his head, washing away the blood and whatever else littered his skin. England ignored it and scrubbed till he felt a bit decent before drying off and getting changed into a cream shirt and v neck knitted green vest, with some sensible light brown trousers. He felt loads better so he precariously exited the bedroom and made his way down stairs.

Arthur stuck his head round every door he came too; just to make sure Scotland wasn't lurking behind them waiting to attack. The dining room was a site. It appeared that when England had left, Scotland had vented his anger out on the unsuspecting paintings on the walls and cabinet which were all trashed and ruined. The posh oak table had numbers of cigarette burn marks defiling its smooth surface and the dark cream carpet was covered in hideous stains of alcohol and, was that… sick?

England retched away at the odour the stain gave off, yet again cursing the Scot for his ill treatment of his best room. England decided it was time for a tea and he could call up his house keeper later and tell them to pop round with a mop and bucket.

The kitchen seemed almost undisturbed. A broken plate here and there and a turned over waste bin but that was it. "Thank the queen that git didn't touch my antique china" Arthur murmured to the empty house as he switched the hob on his oven on and plopped the kettle on top, full of water.

He laid a tray with a bowl of brown and white sugar cubes, a small jug of milk, and a cute willow patterned cup and saucer and once the kettle had boiled, a pot of earl grey tea with an extra cup of hot water. "Beautiful" smiled the Brit as he popped his newspaper, book and pen under his arm and held the tray in the over hand, heading to the garden.

When England was alone there was nothing he enjoyed doing more than sitting in his garden, on a nice day, drinking tea and completing The Daily Mail's weekly Sudoku. It rivalled his embroidery and scone making any day, plus it was a rarity for his country to have much sun. It was normally rain, rain and more rain.

Arthur ventured to his small decking area outside his home and sat on the retro, white two piece chair set and table where he settled and enjoyed the morning air. It was a few miles from the hustle and bustle of his capital, London, so it was peaceful too, which Arthur loved.

Time flew by, and before he new it, midday was approaching and the need for a snack was too much for Arthur. Putting down his copy of 'Harry Potter and the order of the Phoenix' which he was rereading, again, he made his way back to the kitchen.

Looking in his fridge, the only desirable thing was a beef hotpot left from yesterday so he pulled it out and set it on the hob.

Suddenly the phone started ringing making England jump. 'Who could that be?' he thought as he reached to answer the wireless phone, on the side of the counter.

"Arthur! Dude answer your phone!"

Of course it would be America. "Sorry, it must have run out of battery" England quickly lied. To be honest he had no clue where it was. Probably smashed on the floor in the dining room knowing England's luck.

"So uh- why did you call?"

"Well I really need you to come round as soon as possible cuz I found this old horror movie and I'm like, to scared to watch it alone, but I have to so you need to come round and watch it with me."

Any normal person would tell Alfred he didn't have to watch the movie, but Arthur new, once America said he was going to do something, he'd do it. Something to do with his hero complex England had yet to understand.

Well, I'm kind of busy right now… so why don't you ask Japan or Canada." By this point, Arthur was holding the phone with his ear and shoulder and was using his hands to stir and flavour the hotpot with salt and pepper.

"But when you didn't pick up I tried Japan but he said he doesn't want to watch any more horror movies with me after the whole me dressing up as a zombie incident last time and Canada is staying at Cuba's for the next three days so that just leaves you…" He left the sentence open, waiting for Arthur's input.

"Definutly not."

"Please..."

"No."

"Pretty please…" Arthur could practically see America's puppy dog eyes down the phone.

"Gah! Okay but not tonight. I'm busy and it's very short notice so shall we say tomorrow then?"

England really wasn't busy but needed time for his bruises on his face to go down which would hopefully be by tomorrow so that would be okay. He'd still need to use cover up though.

"Aw man I have to wait till tomorrow" moaned Alfred like a child. 'He's still so young' chuckled England to himself.

"Yes you will, I can't come any sooner anyway-"

"That's what he said!" America butted in.

"Wanker."  
>"Douche-bag."<p>

"Yeah well I'll be round at five then. I can bring some black pudding for dinner if you want."

"Black pudding… That's cake right?"

"Not exactly. It's really nice though. I think you'll like it." America didn't respond but England could hear typing on a keyboard in the background.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking on Wikipedia to see what black pudding is. I cannot not know you know."

"I should have guessed" sighed England, ignoring America's double negatives.

"Eww man that's gross" screeched Alfred. "Congealed blood sausage is what they're calling it!"

"It's really yummy" replied Arthur. He turned off the hob as the stew looked ready and went to get a bowl when he saw Scotland, standing in the doorway, watching Arthur with mad eyes.

England wouldn't admit it later on but he let out a squeak of shock as he dropped the phone which fell to the floor with a small bash.

"Iggy, what was that?" a distressed America shouted. Could Arthur hear _worry _in his voice?

Scotland made his way forward silently, almost drifting over the kitchen tiles gaze locked on Arthur. England couldn't reply. His eyes were transfixed on Scotland's. It was almost hypnotic.

"Arthur! Speak to me! Are you okay?"

England had to say something soon before that idiot decided to attempt to be the hero and 'help' so he grabbed the slightly dented phone from the floor and spoke quickly, "I'm fine. It's just I forgot my lunch I was cooking so I had to get it before it burnt, got to go, see you bye- "

"But Arthu-" America was cut off as England ended the call.

Looking up from the phone, Arthur came face to face with a hangover induced Scotsman, with bloodshot eyes and his ruffled, blue, military clothing. He carried another one of his cigarettes in his mouth and England couldn't help wonder where the man got them all from.

"Scotland. I thought you'd gone home" he started.

"I stayed the night. You got a problem with that, huh?" Scott replied. His voice sounded ill and pained. 'Probably all that alcohol, the stupid prick' Arthur cussed.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was shoved to the side and Scotland peered into the concoction Arthur was cooking. He grunted in disgust at the mix and shoved it away, spewing the stew over the hob and top. Arthur flinched at the bang of the pot connecting with the work surface and grabbed a cloth to stop the drips hitting the floor.

"Who was that on the phone eh?"

Arthur new that question was coming, and he didn't know how to answer it. Scotland absolutely despised America ever since he heard of the country so he could tell Scott the truth and probably get some sort of punishment, or lie and likely get found out and get something even worse. England took the risk.

"Oh it was just the Prime Minster's organiser." England said off the top of his head. He stood over the sink and rung the stew-covered cloth out. "He wants me to attend a meeting tomorrow so I won't be in so you'll have to- gah!"

Arthur couldn't finish as Scotland from behind, grabbed a fist full of the Englishman's golden locks and wretched him away from the sink He tightened his grip on Arthur's hair so his head was pulled back at an uncomfortable angle and with his free hand, he took Arthur's arm and squeezed it dangerously, as a warning not to try and get away.

"Don't lie to me you we-bastard!" Scotland hissed into England's ear.

"I was here the whole time you talked to that little shit and now you lie to me, thinking I wouldn't catch you?"

Arthur's eyes were pricking with tears as the strain on his hair and neck increased. He was pretty convinced his neck might break if Scott wasn't careful. "I'm sorry," He pleaded. "I was worried you'd act like this so I didn't want to tell you. I'm sorry, please let me go Scotland!"

The Scotsman seemed to contemplate this for a second before loosening his grip in Arthur's hair and pushing him forward so some clumps of blonde locks remained in his hand. Arthur cried out in pain as he fell to the floor, narrowly missing his head connecting with the work top. He gripped his burning scalp and shuffled back away from the Scot till his back was pressed against the kitchen cupboards.

Scotland let the hairs fall out his hand, watching entranced as they drifted to the ground before looking down at his younger brother. "Your pathetic England and me and all your brothers are sick of it! I'm decided. I will be staying here for a few weeks whether you want me or not."

England's face turned to a face of fear and shock. He wanted to tell the man to get out his house but he was too scared. Scotland walked forward and crouched down in front of the Brit. "And whilst I'm here you will treat me with respect, you got that huh?"

Arthur quickly nodded his head but this didn't please Scotland. "No tell me you little shit, how you gonna treat me?" he leaned in so his head was almost touching England's.

"With, with respect" stuttered Arthur, attempting to avoid eye contact with the other.

"Good." Scott got to his feet and turned away from the trembling man on the floor.

"I've got to pick up some stuff for my stay. Will be a day and a bit so tidy up this shithole while I'm gone and make sure you get rid of your house keeper and crap. I don't want anyone coming into this house other than you and me…"

He turned to Arthur who had grown paler by the second. "You got that, England?"

"Yes," sighed Arthur, probably a bit to casually.

Angered, Scott leapt forward and grabbed around Arthur's shoulder, making sure to press with all his strength into the recent cigarette burn that married the younger's collarbone. England gasped and tried to pull away, only to be stopped by the wall behind.

"That didn't sound like respect," Scott hissed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The pain ate away at Arthur's thoughts as he squirmed under the elders grip. "Let go!"

Scotland dropped him, but not before sending a left hook to Arthur's delicate face, who proceeded to fall with a thud to the tiled floor. Not to get back up.

Scott stared at the unconscious man for a second. "See Artie, look what you made me do" he said, still not taking his eyes off the younger.

He propped Arthur up so he wasn't lying face down and rubbed the already bruising cheek of the younger's face. "You're kind of cute when you're like this Artie" he chuckled, plonking himself by the other and resting England's head on his lap.

"Where gonna have funny for the next few weeks, don't you worry, cuz big brother Scottie's here to stay." Smiled the man and he stayed there with England for the next few hours; stroking the younger's hair like a cat.

It was a good job England didn't wake up for god knows how he would have reacted to Scotland's gentle side. Arthur didn't even know he had one. Scotland got up and left when Arthur began to stir, not wanting to hang around so when Arthur came to on the hard tied floor, he had no idea of the company he'd been with for the last few hours.

He clutched his head, scowling as he came across the large sore lump on one side and the less painful but still unpleasant gash on the other. 'That bastard's going to give me brain damage!' he cursed.

Scrambling to his feet, he noticed the time on the aged clock on the wall and was shocked to find it was eight o'clock at night. 'I've been out of it for seven hours! Bloody hell.'

Wandering slightly dazed from the head injuries, through the house to the garden to collect his tea set, Arthur thought about what Scotland had told him. Staying in his house seemed absolutely unthinkable to the Brit but there was nothing he could do. He was scared and the way he reacted to said man today was in Scott's words; pathetic. England was ashamed of himself for crumbling to the elder and not fighting back, and making him leave. Now he'd be stuck with the man for a whole two weeks!

'I'm going to die,' sighed England. 'There's no possible way I can survive two weeks with that bloody lunatic! I'm going to have to make the most of tomorrow seeing as it's my last day of freedom'

The gloomy Brit brought the tea set in, cancelled his house keeper and apologised, making sure to say he may need her back in two weeks, and began the tedious job of cleaning the house. He sorted the kitchen first and mopped up the stew and any broken crockery, then the dining room; which involved throwing out a load of beautiful paintings after being ruined and cleaning the carpet, and lastly sorting the spare room out which it appeared Scotland had discovered and spent the night there.

Shattered, England crawled to his room and collapsed on his queen-size bed, shuffling under the covers to get warmer. Lying there, he reflected on the day's events and ended thinking of Alfred and how he couldn't wait to visit the American. 'Why am I so looking forward to seeing him?' Arthur asked himself.

'Normally I can't stand the brat but lately… he's just… been… nice.' his face flushed pink at his thoughts and he face-palmed himself for such stupid ideas and dropped the thought, concentrating more on getting to sleep, and it didn't take long before he was in a deep slumber.

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><p>Oooo i bet you can see where this is going ¬¬<p> 


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